


Case of the Missing Jawn

by embalmer56, sadistically_sweet



Series: The 'Co-' Series [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Crabby sunglasses for a crabby bub, Greg and Mycroft bicker like old women, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Soggy bums, threat of a spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19172845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embalmer56/pseuds/embalmer56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadistically_sweet/pseuds/sadistically_sweet
Summary: Naptime can occur in even the most unlikely of places.





	Case of the Missing Jawn

  
"I wan' go ba'g insi'e, G'eg."

"Five more minutes, monkey."

Jawn groaned; "Bu'd tha's wha'd you say'ed fi'be minu'des ago!"

"It wasn't five minutes ago." Now, Greg _was_ telling the truth...technically. It hadn't been five minutes...it had been ten. But Jawn didn't need to know that. "I'll let you know when it's been five minutes. Go play with Sherlock, baby...look, he's got a fantastic sand castle going!"

“G’eeeeeeg, is too haw’d. An' the sun is hur’ding me.”

“You’re wearing half a tube of sun creme. The sun is fine.” Greg leaned further back in his chair, browning like a nut.

“My eyeb'aw’s!”

“Sunglasses.”

Jawn glanced at his crab sunglasses, bright red with little pinchers jutting off each side. "I'ds s'dill too haw'd, G'eg," he whinged, drumming his heels in the grass.

Greg sighed and sat up. "Monkey, I promise," he began, pushing his own sunglasses up on his forehead. "We'll go back inside in a bit. Just enjoy the sunshine for now, okay?"  
He was trying to be patient. It had been a trying afternoon: Sherlock hadn't slept, as usual...he'd only dozed, and one of those rare, midday nightmares had put a stop to that in a hurry.

Unfortunately, that had meant a shortened naptime for Jawn, as well. The little man had been a right crab all afternoon since.

"Bu'd G'eeeeeeeg...!"

Greg picked up Jawn's sunglasses and put them on him. "In a bit, I promise," he said as he kissed Jawn's forehead, and then laid back on his chair.  
  
“You sayed tha’d a’fore.” Jawn glared up at the sun.

“Mmhmmm.”

“D’ese g’yasses is haw’d too.”

Greg reached out blindly and patted Jawn’s head; “Go play.”

Jawn grumbled to himself, glaring in turns at Greg, the sun, and then Sherlock, who was busy making an elaborate castle for Ma’ti’ya the alligator. He imagined himself going over and stomping the tar out of that sandcastle. But Sher'yock would cry, like he _always_ does, and then he'd either get a time-out out here, or maybe even a spanking, if G'eg was fed-up enough.

Which he might be.

Jawn looked around for some shade, preferably far away from everyone and everything annoying. The big, wooden climbing castle was one option...but no, he'd been over there earlier and there were wasps. G'eg had mentioned playing somewhere else until they could spray around for the nest.

The sand pit was out. And he didn't want to stay near the tree with G'eg.

Jawn looked towards the garden, and after a moment's consideration crawled towards it, letting his sunglasses drop to ground while paying no mind.

 

***

  
Fifteen minutes passed before Greg stretched in his chair. There was a limit to how far he could push ‘five more minutes’ before he ended up with a proper strop on his hands.

Though, it had gone quiet except for Sherlock’s soft, steady babbling to his wooden alligator. “Hey gents, I fancy a drink and a snack, what about you?”

“Po’bscicle? Po’bscicle is bo’ff. P’ease? My’ti’la too?”

“I think we can do. Jawn, lad, how does a popsicle sound?”

The yard was silent.

Greg sat up and looked around. "Jawn...?"

There was still no answer. And Jawn was nowhere to be seen.

Greg stood up and took his sunglasses off, then scanned the yard again. "JAWN?!"

Again, no answer. He did have Sherlock's attention now, though; Sherlock looked around, his tiny shovel in hand.

Greg took a deep breath. No reason to scare the tyke by getting frustrated. "Sherlock, do you see Jawn anywhere?"

Sherlock held his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun, and looked around again. "...No?"

"He might be hiding," Greg sighed. "He wasn't very happy with me earlier. JAWN," he called; "It's time to go inside, love!"

Greg could swear he heard crickets, where none were before. “Jawn?”

“Jawn?” Sherlock echoed, lifting his bucket and peering into it. “He’s no’d in here.”

“Yeah, right, excellent detective work, muffin.”

Sherlock gave him a wobbly smile.

Greg turned towards the house, where a single window remained open. “Hey, Myc? We could use some help out here.”

“He’s in the backyard, Gregory," Mycroft called back.

“How could you possibly-“

“Perimeter alarm.”

Greg gaped up at the window to Mycroft's office, where the elder Holmes had opted to stay inside (and YES, Jawn had indeed pointed out was unfair...many, many, many times). "And just how far does this perimeter alarm go???" he barked.

"Around the outer edges of the property line, _obviously_ ," Mycroft called back down. "No one's crossed it."

Greg huffed...well, that was good news, he supposed? He turned away from the window back to the yard, cupped his hands around his mouth, and hollered "JAWN!!!"

...Still silence, save for the now-agitated pair of roosting Grackles that lived in the tree.

Sherlock stood in the sandbox, his bucket and shovel forgotten at his feet. "Jawn g'awn?"

"No, no...he's not gone, love," Greg said quickly, much for his own sake as it was for Sherlock's. "He's just...not answering? JAWN HAMISH! THIS GAME IS OVER!"

“Jawn p’yay a game wif’ou’d me?!” Sherlock gasped.

“You were very busy, muffin. Where could our Jawn be playing? He was right here beside me.”

Sherlock squinted at Greg before steepling his hands beneath his chin and surveying the yard. Greg choked on a laugh. The worlds greatest detective in a T-shirt and soggy nappy, with sand sticking to his legs.

“Jawn was haw’d.”

"Yes. He told us both several times.”

“Me as well,” Mycroft added through the window.

“Jawn whinge. Then he g’awn.”

"Yeah, but we need to find out where he went, muffin. That's the problem."

"There's only so many places in the yard, Gregory." Mycroft appeared in the window, leaning on the sill. "How many of those places have you actually searched?"

"Uhhh, the whole yard, your Royal Highness?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to throw something at his face. "Did you check the OTHER BUILDINGS in this yard, hm?!" he snipped. "Maybe, oh, I don't know, the SHED and the GREENHOUSE???"

Greg sneered and turned towards the small shed at the back of the yard. "I'll show you a greenhouse," he muttered, even though he didn't quite know what that was supposed to mean, himself.

Sherlock trotted along behind him, sand flaking off his naked thighs and feet. "We're no'd a'ppose'a go in'na s'ed wi'fou'd you, G'eg!!!"

"Yeah, that's the rule, in'nit??" Greg replied. If that boy was in this shed the whole time...Ohhhhh, someone's bum was going to be on _fire_.

“Jawn does goo’ y’istenin’, G’eg.”

“Yeah, he does sometimes. We’re gunna find out if this is one of them times.” Greg wrenched open the door to the shed; “Jawn? Monkey. It’s time to come out now.”

“Jawn, Mon’gey. You a’posta p’yay wi’f me.”

Greg threw a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Stay outside without shoes on, please.”

“Awwww, I wan’ come wi’f you!”

“You don’t want another splinter in your foot, do you?” Greg asked opening and closing every cabinet in the small room and checking every corner. Jawn loved tools. It had taken a lot keep him from digging them out to ‘hel’b’ around the house.

“Sp’yinters hur’d.”

“I know. Keep your naked feet outside.”

Sherlock chewed his lip; “I dun’ f’ink he in here anyways.”

Greg sighed; "You don't think so, muffin?" He didn't think so, either.

Sherlock shuffled from foot to foot, eager to join the search (but not eager enough to risk a smack). "Door i'sh y'oud," he said, tugging on one of his curls.

Greg stopped, and thought...Sherlock was right. The wood frame of the door had shifted one winter ages ago; you couldn't open it without a harsh scraping sound that set your teeth on edge. "Yeah, we would've heard the door a mile off, huh?"

"Y'ush."

Greg came out of the shed and shoved the door shut, then latched it again. "Jawwwwwwn!" he called out, and went for the greenhouse.

"Jawwwwwwwwn!" Sherlock parroted, and followed at Greg's heels. "You go'dda COME OU'D NOW! P'EASE!"

“Yeah, come out now, please bub,” Greg said under his breathe.

“I c’n come in'na g’yeenhouse? Jawn y’ubs g’yeen.”

“You prefer purple.”

“I doooooo. Bu’d dis ish abou’ Jawn.”

Greg looked closer at Sherlock; despite how he had said it, that had been the most 'Big' Sherlock had been all weekend. “Sherlock...Course you can come in the green house," he said, then opened the door and immediately began to sweat.

Sherlock poked his head inside, curls seeming to wilt immediately. “D'is b’ery haw’d.”

“Yea. I don’t think he’s here either, but I’m going to take a look real fast.”

“Jawn wa’sh aw’ready haw’d.”

"I know, baby, but he likes playing in the water barrel." Greg walked back to the corner of the greenhouse, though it was already very apparent that Jawn wasn't in there.

Sherlock toddled along after him, his cheeks flushing a splotchy shade of red. "I'sh no'd a goo' hiding p'yace, G'eg," he said, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

Greg felt the sweat prickling the back of his neck, but unlike Sherlock, he knew it wasn't all from the heat. But no, Sherlock was right of course...Jawn wasn't at the large, man-made half barrel full of waterlilies, or among the benches of ferns and assorted orchids and gardening tools. "Jawn, sweetheart, please come out?" he tried anyway.

Sherlock was now starting to look worried, whether on his own recognition or feeling it off of Greg. "Where Jawn, G'eg?" he asked in a small voice, his brow furrowing.

"I...I dunno, sweetheart," Greg said, feigning a short laugh. "He's a good hider!"

“I'sh true. Jawn’s b’ery small and he can scru'nge smaller.”

“He is small. But don’t tell him I said so.” Greg put his hand on Sherlock’s back and guided him back out of the of the greenhouse.

“I'sh our secre’d.”

“Well, it’s not really a secret, is it.”

“E’berybody knows he’sh tiny.’

Greg forced himself to smile at the baby, then turned towards the open window again; “HEY MYC. WE’RE GUNNA NEED YOU OUT HERE," he hollered.

“YEAH MYC! COME FIN’E JAWN! HE’S B'ERY GOO’ A'D HIDING.”

Mycroft leaned out the window; “You’re sure he’s not in the shed?”

“Positive, dearest.”

"I swear to God, Gregory, if I come down there and find him in the shed..."

"We have looked _everywhere_ , Myc," Greg stressed...but not too much, as Sherlock was standing right beside him and listening to every word. "We. Need. Some. Help."

Mycroft arched his eyebrow; "...Be right down, then," he said, disappearing from the window.

Sherlock stood next to Greg while looking up at the window that his brother had just vacated. "G'eg?"

"Yeah, muffin?"

Sherlock turned to face him; "My'coff fin'e Jawn?" he asked.

Greg smiled and took Sherlock's hand, then gave it a squeeze. "Yeah; Jawn's a good hider but your brother's a good finder."

"Y'ah, fin'er," Sherlock nodded, but he took another look around the yard while worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

Greg gave his hand another squeeze.

“You f’ink Jawn y’eaved the yard?”

“Your brother doesn’t think he did, so probably not. Though he’s a tricksy little hobbit, isn’t he.”

Sherlock nodded and squeezed Greg’s hand back; “Y'ah, tri’gsy.”

“You both are going to sit on the step if I find Jawn in the shed,” Mycroft announced, stepping out the back door with a sniff.

“You are a 100% welcome to waste time rechecking the shed, dear heart.”

“It’s not a waste if that’s where he is.”

“You si’d on'na ste’b if he n'ah there?”

Mycroft stopped in mid-stride, and looked at his little brother with a mixed expression of incredulity and bemusement.

"Ahhh, see, he's not taking that bet," Greg teased and nudged Sherlock's shoulder in an effort to lighten the mood. "He knows better."

"I _do_ know better, because I know he's in the shed," Mycroft said, but Greg noticed that as emphatic as Mycroft sounded, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Greg and Sherlock stood back as Mycroft strode over to the shed and wrenched the door open. "Jawn Hamish! This is not a game, young man!" they heard him snap before disappearing inside.

Sherlock chewed his bottom lip. "Bu'd him's...bu'd Jawn i'sh no'd in there, G'eg," he said, looking up at Greg.

"I know, muffin. Just let him see for himself."

They stood in the afternoon sun, everything quiet except the occasional slam of cupboard doors and Mycroft threatening to blister Jawns' bum.

“Jawn wa'sh ho’d.” Sherlock said, wincing at a particularly loud slam.

“Yes. I remember.” Greg answered, eyes on the shed door.

“Where on earth has that little beasty gone?” Mycroft reappeared in the entrance.

“He'd go somewhere cool.”

Mycroft snorted; “He’ll need to sit on a block of ice to find 'cool' once I’m done with him.”

Sherlock turned towards Greg and hugged him in order to hide his face.

"Because I'm sure listening to you making threats upon his person is going to make him show himself again any time soon," Greg said dryly, putting a comforting hand on the baby's hip and rubbing.

Mycroft whipped around, turning a dark glare on Greg...which faded as soon as he noticed his little brother cowering. His shoulders slumped as he sighed; "...Where else could he have gone?" he asked out loud, running his hand back over his thinning hair, and looking slightly sheepish as he did so.

Greg accepted Mycroft's version of an apology with a short nod. "Maybe he went back inside?" he suggested, looking down at Sherlock and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Mycroft shook his head. "No. Motion-activated cameras at the back and front doors. The video would have popped up on my screen."

“He...could he have been air lifted out of the yard?” Greg asked, causing Sherlock to shiver beside him.

“Don’t be preposterous! You wouldn’t have noticed a drone?”

“If all the obvious answers are out, we go for less obvious ones!”

“We’ve clearly missed something simple. Did he climb a tree?” Mycroft said putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun while he glanced up at the branches of the huge oak in their backyard.

“Terrified-of-heights Jawn climbed a tree?”

Mycroft clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose as his mind raced. Then, he exhaled slowly; "...He couldn't have gotten out of the yard. Not with you right there. Or Sherlock," he said, and then opened his eyes. "Let's check the greenhouse one more time, then we go look in the house."

Greg sighed, as well. "Yeah, alright," he agreed, even though he knew that Jawn was nowhere in the greenhouse.

Sherlock, however, was beginning to get tired of wasting time. "He's no'd in there, My'coff!" he protested, sounding just as frustrated as they both felt.

Mycroft started to scold his little brother for shouting, but Greg interrupted; "Y'know, you said you've got cameras in the yard?" he asked.

"Ye- _es_ ," Mycroft drawled. "Of course I do."

"Okay, then can we pull up the footage on your computer and maybe see where he went?"

"They don't start recording unless something triggers them, Gregory. Until then, they just monitor."

"Well, let's go check anyway, because I can already tell you he's not in the greenhouse or the shed, or fuck'all out here," Greg snapped.

Mycroft's face started to go red. "Do NOT snap at me--!"

"Go inside, both of you!" Sherlock spat, startling them both. The other men gaped at him, wide-eyed...obviously, he was no longer in headspace. "I'll finish looking out here myself, since you're the two idiots that lost him in the first place!"

“Sherlock-“

“We don’t have time for this! Go and let me think!” Sherlock turned away from them, his fingers already steepled under his chin. An impressive figure despite the soggy nappy.

“Let’s check the footage just in case,” Greg put a hand on Mycroft’s arm. “Come’on, love.”

Mycroft looked ready to argue, but followed Greg reluctantly toward the house.

“Little hobbit, come out come out,” Sherlock sing-songed as he scanned the lawn again. He walked over to the lawn chair where Greg had been sitting earlier, the last known place Jawn had been, and carefully scanned the ground around him.

Jawn had been in a foul mood and hadn't wanted to play with him, Sherlock mused, crouching down. The grass was still somewhat flattened where Jawn had been sitting, so he sat down in that spot and looked around...

There was the sandbox, where he himself had been playing...but Jawn had been grumpy with him, for whatever reason, so Sherlock let his gaze drift to the next thing to catch his eye, the wooden play castle. Now, Jawn was known to go and pout in the towers, as they were the only two parts that weren't completely open to view...but no, not today. Not with the horde of angry red wasps that had decided to nest in the planks that covered the tops of both towers.

Sherlock scanned to the left of the playground, towards the greenhouse, and squinted...there, _yes_ , there was something in the grass, just over there! A bit of red, glinting in the sun.

He walked over to pick it up, and realized that it was Jawn's red, crab-shaped sunglasses.

“Jawn. This is no longer funny,” Sherlock said, putting the sunglasses back down where they had been, obviously taken off and dropped. He examined the grass for footprints but saw none. Damn lush greenery.

“He was hot. And upset. He’d want to be somewhere cool and alone...in the shade...”

Sherlock stopped; “Shade...shady.” His eyes lit on the wheelbarrow. Greg had let them take turns riding in it that morning and now...now it was turned over, half propped against a huge terra-cotta pot.

He headed straight for it, crossing the yard in quick order while trying to force his heart back down out of his throat. Jawn  _had_ to be there! It was the only place left...!

Sherlock willed himself to not break into a run, but still his pace quickened until he reached the wheelbarrow. "Jawn--?!?!?" he said, lifting the side of it up off the ground...

And heaved a sigh in relief as he discovered Jawn, fast asleep and curled into a position that was going to have his shoulder in agony later that night.

Sherlock let out a shaky laugh as he felt his heart rate return to normal; "Jawn!" he said, reaching for him. "Wake up, monkey!"

“No u’b, Daaaaa,’” Jawn whinged, going boneless as Sherlock tried to scoop him up.

“Were you comfy? I bet we can find a more comfortable spot to rest.”

Jawn grumbled but went quiet when Sherlock got him up and against his shoulder.

“What were you doing under there, hmm? Were you hiding?” Sherlock ran a soothing hand up Jawn’s back, his eyes misting over as Greg and Mycroft burst out the back door; they must have been watching the camera feed when Jawn had been found.

“N'ah hiding, Da’. Jus’ res’ding,” Jawn yawned.

"Monkey!" Greg laughed as he reached for him, and Sherlock passed him over. "What were you doing under there, huh? You gave us a scare!"

Jawn was frowning at all the commotion (as well as being passed around like a sack of potatoes), but now he was just confused. "Sca'we?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, you did...nobody knew where you'd gone off to, little boy," Greg said as he smooched the side of Jawn's head. "We didn't know what had happened!"

"I wa'sh ho'd," Jawn whinged, and went to lay on Greg's shoulder.

"Ah-ah, it's my turn." Mycroft took Jawn next, sitting him on his hip. "Jawn Hamish," he scolded, though not-at-all seriously. "You know better than to vanish like that! Without telling anyone!" He brushed Jawn's hair back from his forehead, looking him over this way and that before kissing his cheek.

"I di' tell," Jawn pouted, sounding very near tears as he put his hand to his cheek, where Mycroft's lips had brushed, and looked to Sherlock. "An' I'm s'dill ho'd!"

"Alright, alright, enough of this business, give me back my child," Sherlock said, and Jawn ended up changing hands for the third time. "He's found, he's safe, and he is indeed very hot." He gave Jawn a bounce on his hip; "And, in need of a change, so, if you'll--"

"He's not the only one who needs a change."

"--Shut up. So, if you'll excuse us, we're going inside," Sherlock finished, and carried Jawn off towards the house.

"...The fucking wheelbarrow," Mycroft muttered, and followed after them.

Greg watched the procession with a half grin. "The fucking wheelbarrow," he repeated, shaking his head, and then followed the others inside.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill! Prompt can be found here:
> 
> https://sadieandmo.tumblr.com/post/184049981596/awhile-ago-in-your-babylock-headcanons-naptime
> 
> *sorry, I've forgotten how to hyperlink here*


End file.
